


Frostproof

by jaybear1701



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, F/F, Mistletoe, Season 3 Speculation, holiday-ish, sort of, spoilers from the trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybear1701/pseuds/jaybear1701
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a snowy hill overlooking Polis, Clarke and Lexa meet underneath some mistletoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frostproof

Lexa’s breath misted out and curled upward in wraith-like wisps as she limped up her favorite hill. The frozen path on which she traveled was barely visible in the darkness. But it didn’t matter.  Lexa knew the way by heart, her footing sure and steady as ice-glazed snow crunched beneath her heavy boots. If Anya had been there, Lexa mused, her former mentor likely would have slapped her upside the head with a fistful of snow for her lack of stealth. Smiling to herself, Lexa could practically hear Anya chastising her in a stern voice, _“An enraged pauna would make less noise.”_

But there was no need for caution here. No dangers lurked on the outskirts of Polis because there were no enemies to fear within the shadows of the forest. The Trikru warriors who guarded the perimeter, hand-picked by Lexa herself, made sure of it.

Lexa was alone.

Nothing but the stillness of the receding twilight kept her company.

And it was a relief.

She had spent days arguing with the other clan leaders, who now questioned her leadership after the events at Mt. Weather. They had fought against her proposal to allow the Skaikru into their tenuous coalition _._ And after enduring a battle with Roan to enforce her stance on the matter, Lexa welcomed the solitude.

Now more than ever, she appreciated distancing herself from the confines of her headquarters, where it felt like the walls were closing in around her just from the knowledge that a certain blonde Skaikru leader was sleeping just down the hall.

Lexa’s chest squeezed tightly at the thought of Clarke and the confusing juxtaposition she presented. Ever since their abrupt reunion, Clarke had regarded Lexa with only cold anger and distrust. And yet, concern still had flashed within her blue eyes whenever Roan had seemed to gain the upper hand during their duel.

And in the aftermath of Lexa’s narrow victory over Roan, Clarke had personally tended to Lexa’s wounds, even though a week earlier she had tried to seek revenge on Lexa with the sharp edge of a knife against the Commander’s throat. Clarke had cleaned and dressed the cuts and scrapes along Lexa’s arms and legs, stitched up a particularly deep gash on her left arm beneath her shoulder, and iced an ugly, purple bruise forming in the middle of Lexa’s back where Roan had landed a vicious kick.

They had spoken sparingly. Their terse exchanges focused solely on Lexa’s pain threshold and Clarke’s treatment plan. But the tenderness in Clarke’s ministrations had spoken volumes to Lexa in a silent conversation that she felt she didn’t deserve.

It was all too much.

And Lexa was thankful to get away before she succumbed to the weakness that always seeped deep into her bones whenever Clarke was near.

When Lexa reached the apex of the hill, she placed a hand on the rough bark of a tree trunk and steadied herself. She took several deep breaths, drawing them in so deeply that she could taste the frost that hung in the air. Her injuries ached and she felt winded,  but the view was _always_ worth it.

In the distance, Polis illuminated the inky black horizon with sparkling pinpricks of light that reminded Lexa of the midnight sky and its canopy of stars. Her mind turned yet again to the Skaikru leader. Lexa had wanted-- _still_ wanted--to show this to Clarke; a different kind of universe spread across the ground. But now...

“You should be resting, Commander.”

The voice, husky and deep, materialized out of nowhere, startling Lexa from her thoughts. She spun around, her right hand immediately latching onto the dagger strapped to her hip above her heavy cloak, ready to strike. But she froze when she recognized the familiar blonde figure emerging from the darkness. How had Lexa not heard her approach?

“Clarke.” With practiced ease, Lexa kept her voice calm even though it felt like her racing heart had become lodged in her throat. She schooled her features into a neutral, unaffected mask, not wanting Clarke to know she had caught her unaware. “Likewise.”

Clarke stopped a respectful distance away, warily eyeing Lexa’s weapon. The fingers of her left hand subtly twitched toward the firearm that undoubtedly was holstered underneath Clarke’s own cloak.

“I’m not the one who nearly got sliced in half yesterday,” she said, her brow creasing faintly. “You could have died, Lexa.”

“Any one of us could die on any given day.” Lexa forced herself to relax, dropping her arms to her sides in a non-threatening stance..

“But some come much closer than others.” Clarke continued forward cautiously, her footfalls impressively soft on the snow-covered ground. Perhaps Clarke had picked up a few lessons in stealth during her three months hiding among the Trikru. “Your wounds won’t heal if you don’t take it easy.”

“There will be ample opportunity for rest.” Lexa turned to face Polis once again. “Once we have secured the Skaikru’s merger into the coalition.”

“Lexa, what are you even doing…” Whatever reprimand Clarke had prepared next transformed into a low gasp when she joined Lexa at the top of the hill.

Pride unfurled within Lexa’s chest as she watched Clarke’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. Lips parted, Clarke stared in awe at the glimmering cityscape made even more breathtaking by the warm glow beginning to peek out from behind the buildings, bathing the skyline in soft hues of burnt orange, deep purples and pink.

“It’s so beautiful,” Clarke whispered reverently.

Lexa nodded once in agreement. She walked to a nearby boulder and sat, grateful to relieve some pressure on her sore joints. Clarke hesitated only briefly before joining Lexa. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as she settled onto the hard gray stone.

“Costia,” Lexa said suddenly, the name unexpectedly tumbling out before she could stop herself. “She brought me here the night I was called to lead.”

Tearing her gaze away from Polis, Clarke trained her blue eyes on Lexa with a quiet curiosity, while Lexa continued to stare at the oncoming dawn. There was not a single cloud in sight.

“There is no higher honor than being chosen by the Commander’s spirit, but I…” Lexa swallowed hard at the memory of Costia’s gentle smile as she had clasped Lexa’s clammy hand in her own and led her up the incline. “I was young. Unsure. Costia showed this to me.” Lexa felt the heat of Clarke’s careful observation. “To remind me about what I’m protecting. _Who_ I’m protecting.”

Clarke let out a long breath that dissipated like smoke. “Is that why you came here? For a reminder?”

“Something like that.” Lexa looked down and stomped her feet, curling her numbed toes inside her boots.

Silence stretched and wrapped around them as they watched the sun rise higher and higher. The early light reflected against the hoarfrost that had crystallized overnight on the bare branches of some trees and the pine needles of the evergreens; a blanket of fractal white as far as the eye could see.

“Lexa, what you did yesterday…” Clarke fidgeted with a piece of thread dangling from the hem of her cloak, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I wanted to th--.”

“There is no need for gratitude, Clarke,” Lexa cut her off softly. “What occurred yesterday would not have come to pass if not for my choice on Mt. Weather.” She noted the sudden, subtle rigidity in Clarke’s frame. “I did what needed to be done.”

“For your people.”

_For you_ , the thought echoed inside Lexa’s heart and she shook her head, as if that would rid her of it. “For  _our_ people.”

Clarke’s head snapped up and their eyes locked. Although everything they’d left unspoken still hung around them, thick and heavy, a frisson of understanding passed between them. Lexa would never ask for forgiveness for her deal with the Mountain Men. She didn’t know if Clarke would grant it even if she did. But after yesterday, they both knew that Lexa would do whatever it took to protect their people, in any way she could, even if it cost Lexa her life.

Clarke sniffled slightly, rubbing a finger underneath her red tipped nose as she looked at anything but Lexa--the far off buildings, the smoke rising from chimneys and stretching up into the almost blue sky, the thin, interlocking branches of oak overhead. She paused only when she noticed the bushy clumps of green clinging to the wood directly above them.

“That plant.” Clarke pointed and Lexa looked upward at the bundles of leaves accented with white berries. “Do you know it?”

 “ _Tri veida_ ,” Lexa answered, shoulders relaxing, quite grateful for the change of subject. Clarke’s brow furrowed at the unfamiliar word and Lexa clarified, “An invader of the trees.”

“Invader?”

“Of sorts. Perhaps _parasite_ would be a better word,” Lexa explained. “It cannot live on its own. So it must attach itself to a tree to sustain itself.”

“It does whatever it takes to survive,” Clarke murmured and Lexa nodded reluctantly. “I read about them. On the Ark. Before the war,, some people called it mistletoe.”

“Missile-tow,” Lexa repeated, her tongue testing the syllables of the unfamiliar word.

“During this time of year, it was regarded as a symbol of love.”

Lexa quirked up an eyebrow, suddenly not as amused at the turn of their conversation. “A parasitic plant with poisonous berries symbolized love?”

The soft sound of Clarke’s responding laughter made Lexa’s pulse stutter.

“It’s lovely, but dangerous. It perseveres even in harsh conditions.” Shrugging, Clarke licked her lips and stole a glance at Lexa. “Love is all those things and more.” Her voice lowered, becoming even raspier. “It’s more than just weakness.”

Lexa didn’t answer because she could barely breathe.

“They had a ritual associated with mistletoe,” Clarke continued, inching closer to Lexa, whose heart throbbed against her ribs as the distance between them disappeared.

“What kind of ritual?” Lexa asked despite feeling the strong urge to  push off the rock and retreat as far away from Clarke as possible. To put some space between them so Lexa could catch her breath.

“I could show you,” Clarke offered, “if you wanted.”

Clarke’s eyes mirrored the sky in the early morning sunlight, bright and intense. She was gorgeous, and Lexa couldn’t bring herself to say no. Instead, she consented with an almost imperceptible nod.

“Tradition dictated that anyone standing underneath mistletoe should be kissed or else bad luck would befall on them.” Clarke reached out with her left hand and cupped Lexa’s face. Her fingers were icy and Lexa suppressed a shiver, but she didn’t move away. She willingly allowed herself to remain caught in Clarke’s gravitational pull.

Lexa allowed her gaze to trail over Clarke’s features, from the delicate arch of her eyebrows to the smooth curves of cheeks tinged pink from the chill, down to the cleft of her chin and back up to her mouth. Lexa was sure the longing in Clarke’s expression, laid bare and vulnerable and aching, was reflected in her own.

“I don’t believe in luck,” Lexa managed to say despite the constriction of her throat, the way her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her parched mouth.

“Neither do I.”

Clarke leaned forward and gently, _oh so gently,_ kissed her.

Clarke’s lips were cold and chapped, but Lexa nevertheless melted into the caress, its sweetness warming her all the way to the tips of her fingers and down to her toes. It reminded Lexa of their first kiss, tentative yet heady, a potent charge steadily building between them. Lexa wanted nothing more than to bury her fingers in golden hair and pull Clarke closer. But she didn’t. She let Clarke set a languid and unhurried pace, leaving Lexa’s entire body thrumming with want.

Clarke shifted slightly and Lexa braced herself for the disappointment of Clarke pulling away and abruptly breaking their connection yet again. But she didn’t. Not this time. Instead, she deepened the kiss. Clarke wrapped her free hand around the back of Lexa’s neck and pulled their bodies flush together until Lexa saw sparks behind her eyelids and her mind was wiped clean of responsibility, of duty, of _everything_.

In that moment, they were no longer heda or wanheda. They were no longer the leaders of their respective people, called upon to sacrifice their dreams and deny themselves their wants for the greater good.

They were, simply, Clarke and Lexa.

Two people falling and falling and unable to stop it. Hard and fast. Finding solace in each other and giving each other the strength to survive. To live. To be.

“Come back with me,” Clarke whispered breathlessly against Lexa’s lips, nuzzling the tip of her nose with own before resting their foreheads together. “Please.”

Lexa didn’t know what any of this meant; if it meant anything at all. But she nodded, words completely escaping her. When she opened her eyes, she discovered she didn’t need an answer. Not yet. Not when Clarke was watching her with such unabashed affection.  Lexa’s heart hammered so hard in her chest that she wondered if Clarke could feel it reverberating against her own.

Taking Lexa’s hand and intertwining their fingers, Clarke turned and led them back down the hill as the frozen landscape began to thaw beneath the fully risen sun.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a holiday-themed fic, so I thought... why not try to write one for the post-apocalyptic angst machine known as The 100? That makes perfect sense! haha This is my first time writing for this fandom. Hope you like this little story, which is partly based on some pretty awesome S3 spec that has been floating around the tumblrverse following the trailer. And a special thank you to **OTP324B21** for reading this over for me. Happy holidays!


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